


The Ways of a Judge

by forbiddengarnet



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbiddengarnet/pseuds/forbiddengarnet
Summary: Two years after the end of their big adventure, Balthier finds himself back in Archades - and finally back with Basch. How had he become a Judge all those years ago? What will the future now hold for them?
Relationships: Balthier/Basch fon Ronsenburg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Two years after the fall of the Bahamut. One year after the entire team’s brief but merry reunion at Queen Ashe’s coronation. A year during which Balthier had done what he could to keep himself busy, after it had taken him and Fran a good while to fully recover from the Bahamut incident. They’d been back, as good as ever - but now they decided to take a little break. Fran met with Mjrn to safely show her little sister a bit of the world outside the Woods. Though Fran never said it out loud, her sister could be a little naive and helpless, and the hume world could be dangerous for those of her type. And while there were many places Balthier could have gone to lay back for a little while, out of all the places, he found himself in Archades. The one place he could have quite happily avoided for the rest of his life, were it not for the one person who had stolen this sky pirate’s heart.  
  
Later during the first evening upon his arrival, he stood by the window of Basch’s personal quarters, looking out on his home city brightly lit up. There was a sense of nostalgia, mixed with a heavy heart; something he had already expected would happen the moment Fran had suggested they take a break. For two years he kept himself busy, be it by recovery or pirating, to not think much about his past mistakes and late realisations regarding his father. Running again, he knew, but running was what he was good at. Now he would have the time to think and mourn, and what better place to remind him than home?  
  
“You’re troubled,” Basch stated rather than asked, regaining Balthier’s attention as the younger snapped back to the present. He had discarded his armour in time for the private dinner the young Emperor Larsa had invited them both to earlier that evening, in their own little reunion. “Is it about what Larsa offered during dinner? That you rejoin the Judges?” he asked as he stepped behind Balthier, arms looping around his waist, and his heart ached at how familiar it felt to have the younger relax into his arms, the warm touch of hands on his. They’d briefly met on occasion during the past year, outside the city when fate had been kind on them. His greatest wish was that Balthier would stay, whether it be with the Judges or not.  
  
“His offer was kind, but I won’t return to the Judges,” Balthier dismissed the suggestion without a second thought. They remained silent for a moment before he spoke again. “What a Judge I’d be - one who ran from them once before, only to become a sky pirate. Oh, and how many Judges and Judge Magisters have we fought? Killed? Though I suppose us also having killed an emperor doesn’t count, considering the overall circumstances at the time.”  
  
For a moment Basch considered to disagree, to say that if he had the right to be a Judge, so did Balthier. But they both knew he had literally stepped into his twin brother’s footsteps, was living under the identity of Judge Magister Gabranth, not fon Ronsenburg. He saw where Balthier was coming from, however. Though instead of commenting, he remained silent, keeping his partner in the warm embrace. He knew the other well enough by now to know that more words, an explanation would follow in his own time. Let him collect his thoughts, support him silently. And he wasn’t disappointed, for a few moments into them both watching the city by night, the younger spoke again.  
  
“To think that there’d been a time when I’d been  _ excited _ to be part of the Judges… Not long before I began to believe that the old man was going mad. I’d train combat and study the law from early until late. Even trained with your brother once or twice after finally becoming a Judge. Combat training in full armour, he certainly didn’t go easy on me. I took pride in it all, wanted to make my father proud, even when he began mumbling seemingly to himself.”  
  
______  
  
  
__ As the ‘prodigy son’ of the great Doctor Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, Ffamran spent every free hour training or with his nose in a book. He considered himself fortunate to be in the position that he was, with easy access to all the knowledge of books and great minds one could ask for. His two elder brothers took the same advantage, having their places in the imperial accounting department, and close to the Senate after they had finished their studies. Ffamran himself, however, showed great interest and promise for a career in the military. By the age of 15 he already began training against soldiers, refining his skills and tactics with each session.  
  
__ A year into this training at age 16, just shortly after his father returned from a research trip to Giruvegan, the man stood to the sideline, arms crossed as he watched his son’s training. That alone was reason enough for Ffamran to put extra effort into the session, though he had a hard time ignoring his father’s mumbling that sounded like he was having an actual conversation.  
  
__ “What was that, Venat? Are you certain? … Yes, yes… … Ah! Excellent idea, excellent indeed. I’ll see to it. What a great aid he might become,” he heard Cid speak happily to himself, just before the man turned to leave. His father had always been a little eccentric, but talking to himself? That was new, and more than just a little worrying.  
  
__ The next evening, a military commander appeared in the training hall, along with a Judge in full armour. The commander dismissed the soldier who usually was here at this hour with Ffamran. The training was good for them both, after all. “From tomorrow on you’ll be on trial training for Judges,” the commander told Ffamran once the soldier was gone. “You’re expected here at 7am sharp. If you pass the trial, you’ll have a good career ahead of you, boy. Your partner,” he gestured for the Judge standing next to him. No names, no faces. Saluting to both the commander and the Judge, his new training partner, Ffamran promised he would do his best.  
  
__ He knew this training would be more intense, but he hadn’t been prepared for the real deal. Every morning training began at 7, 8 if he was lucky. During the first week they would train until lunch, then spend an hour with Archadian law and general politics, then train for another few hours. Lastly, another hour of theory before he was dismissed for the day. Throughout the first few days every single muscle and joint ached, but he had a clear goal: to become a Judge. He knew his father had pulled some strings and set things into motion, and he wanted to make the man proud.  
  
_ The second week contained a little more theory, and during combat training he had to relay what they had covered in theory the day before. Magic, too, became a part of their training. The first thing he had to learn was how to evade a spell and use Shell. It was his luck they had potions - the lightning spells were usually weak enough to just give him a shock, while the wind spells mostly knocked the wind  _ out _ of him, leave him with a headache at most when he hit his head on a wall. The spells he hated the most were ice and fire spells. He didn’t wear any armour, so he learned very quickly - being hit by a spell, any spell,  _ hurt. __ One day his father attended again for about half an hour, while Ffamran was getting a hold of spells such as Protect and Cure. The man would mutter to himself some more, something about stones and crysts that Ffamran couldn’t make sense of. After Cid left, his son was thankful that the Judge didn’t comment on the doctor’s apparent state of mind.  
  
__ After two weeks, he finally was given a day off. He didn’t allow himself to slack too much, fearing that it would be too difficult to get back into training if he did. So he stuck to a light workout and some reading - and a late bath as a kind of reward. He had baths on other days as well, when he didn’t fall face first into bed and pass out before his head hit the pillow, but for this bath he allowed himself to dwell a little longer.  
  
__ The third week contained a little more theory again, among other what judgement to pass on which crimes, much like the fourth week. On the final day of his trial, the same commander arrived at the training hall at 6 in the evening, when they were wrapping up before dinner. “Report in my office 9am tomorrow. You did well, congratulations,” the man said, even showing a faint smile. He liked Ffamran and saw his potential, which was confirmed on a regular report by the Judge. Their ranks would welcome the boy.  
  
__ Ffamran felt joy and pride in this promotion, yes, but something was gnawing at him - his father’s sanity. The man would even mumble at nothing in his study at home, and be holding imaginary conversations with some ‘Venat’ in his office of the laboratory when Ffamran went to visit.  
  
__ His new position as a Judge still contained a lot of hard training and studying, but this time it felt a little easier than the trial. Though getting used to the new armour was another thing. Still, he enjoyed learning all these new things, spells and techniques.  
  
__ Over the next several weeks he spent more and more time either with his new responsibilities or some few other Judges he was beginning to befriend. Anything, as long as it kept him away from home and his father’s mumbling. His heart ached at the thought, that the man he looked up to was slowly losing his mind in his obsession over some stone, and there was nothing he could do to help. That was the worst part, being helpless. It made him want to just stay away. He’d tried talking to his father about the matter, but would always simply be brushed off that he knew nothing of ‘the grander picture’.  
  
______  
  
  
Until then, Basch had only known the general drift of Balthier’s past in Archades and with his father, so he listened with great interest. The steep path the young man had gone to achieve his goals and make his father proud, and he could only imagine how he must have felt at watching Doctor Cid slowly succumb to apparent madness. He remembered when they had first met, how impressed he had been at the fighting skills, strength and stamina of this sky pirate who had saved his life, and at the incredible political and worldly knowledge. No surprise now, with how harsh training had been.  
  
And he knew that that couldn’t have been all to Balthier’s story, to what had driven him to flee his life as a Judge after all those hardships to reach his goals. During their long travel together two years ago, Balthier had hardly a good word to spare about Judges in general. “What happened then?” he asked after a moment or two of silence, his partner still held close and warm in his arms. “You were a respected Judge, from what I know, and could have chosen to move into your own quarters to distance yourself from your father. What made you leave?” he asked curiously, wanting to grab this chance to learn more about what the younger had always kept quiet about.  
  
Balthier thought for a moment - about how to explain himself or whether to do so at all, Basch wasn’t sure. “Two years ago, a new age began for the Judges and Judge Magisters," Balthier began eventually. “Before that, the Senate and Judges alike had been largely corrupt, many of them twisting everything to their own advantage and will. Something I’d come to realise too late.”  
  
______  
  
  
__ Ffamran was on duty when a turmoil arose in the city. A citizen of Old Archades had attacked and wounded someone in Archades, and was now on the run. The Judges were to find and capture the man, who was already known for theft. That, and the fact that the recent victim was the son of a higher up in the government now made it the Judges responsibility.  
  
__ It was more by chance that Ffamran found the wanted man near the border to Old Archades, running to hide in a quiet area until the situation might calm down. With a hand to the hilt of his sword, he did as was required, cornering the man and keep him from running while making it clear he was a threat to the man. ‘Now what…’ he asked himself, as he hadn’t been in this kind of situation before. No use interrogating him here, so he would need to take him to prison. “I would ask for you to come with me quietly,” he told the man, not wanting to have to resort to violence. Here he was, heavily armed against a man who obviously had not many a Gil or chop to his name, let alone a weapon to defend himself with.  
  
__ The man knew this was the end of the road for him, and with nothing much left to lose, he panicked. “Feelin’ high an’ mighty, are ye? Better tell me wife an’ kids their dad ain’t be comin’ home, thanks to that bleedin’ muppet of an Archadian whimp accusin’ me of attackin’ ‘im. Just pushed ‘im away as he held me, I have.”  
  
__ The man had just been defending himself? Of course Ffamran knew that by Archadian law theft was enough to take the man to prison, even if it had just been to help his family, but the accusation of a physical attack would weigh heavier on the man’s punishment. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the command of “Kill him.” from a familiar voice behind him, of a senior Judge he knew well by now. “I can’t jus--” he was cut off mid sentence when his senior spoke again. “Of course you can, you’re the hand of the law. This man repeatedly broke the law, and compromised the health of an Archadian citizen. He’s been tried, found guilty, and given the death penalty.” When he still didn’t move, his superior put more pressure on him. “Kill him, Judge Ffamran. That is an order.”  
  
__ The man decided to chance an escape while the two Judges were discussing his fate. Taking a brick from the ground next to him, he threw it at Ffamran and bolted - or tried to bolt. Ffamran didn’t even know what his body was doing next, after the brick took little effect as it hit his armoured arm. Trained to fight and effectively kill in the worst case, and being young and inexperienced, he instinctively pulled his dagger, and caught the man with it in the heart as he just passed him. A heavy silence followed as the man slowly slumped to the floor, struggling only a moment longer before he took his last breath. “He attacked two Judges, you did the right thing,” the senior said with obvious satisfaction as he turned to take his leave. “Leave him there, I’ll take care of the rest.”  
  
__ Ffamran only barely took in the words, the shock running deep as he let the blood dripping dagger drop from his hand. He took one, two steps back from the corpse by his feet, and he couldn’t stop shaking. This man didn’t have to die, that wasn’t the will of the law. And yet there the man was, having drawn his final breath because Ffamran, ‘the hand of the law’, hadn’t been in control of himself. He had heard of Judges bending the law, but he had brushed those stories off as just that - stories. How could he have let himself be pushed into a corner so easily, that his instinct made such a fatal mistake? This was his first kill.  
  
__ The next day he tried and failed to let work pass as normal. He was guilting himself - the official report had stated the same as the senior Judge had said, that the man had attacked two Archadian Judges, and had been put to death in self-defence. He couldn’t stop thinking about the family of that man, how they would now have to fend for themselves. He’d been to Old Archades multiple times before, knew what it was like out there.  
  
__ In an attempt to talk about the matter, he made his way to his father’s office in the laboratory. All his life, his father had been the one person he would turn to when he needed to talk, and no matter how strained things had been in recent months, Cid still was the first he thought of to go to. He knew he was interrupting an imaginary conversation the moment he stepped into the office, but he didn’t care. “Just how true are the stories of corruption among the Judges?” he asked as the automatic door closed behind him, and he took his helmet off.  
  
__ Doctor Cid looked back at him from over his shoulder, then turned around to properly regard his son. “Ah, my boy, I fear it is not only the Judges,” he waved a hand as he walked back to his desk, then remembered something, and turned for the bookshelf. “I heard what happened. Tragic, but there will be great things waiting for you at the end of the road.”  
  
__ “What do you mean?” Ffamran asked with a frown as he watched his father return to his desk, reading something up in the book he’d taken from the shelf. How was he supposed to just shrug off the incident from the previous day?  
  
__ “You have great potential, Ffamran. Keep to it, and you’ll even make it to Judge Magister. Lord Vayne agrees that with the right people on board of our grand project, we’ll get our hands on all the nethicite we need to become strong enough. There are stones of unimaginable power, just waiting to be taken by us. I’m forever grateful for Venat making me student. Indeed, I aim to make you a proud mentor,” Cid said, beginning his explanation towards his son, but drifting off into another one of his monologues aimed behind him at this imaginary … person? Whatever it was, his father’s madness was now making him a tool for some stone hunt. Had this been the plan all along? He’d heard some mumbling about nethicite and stones before, but had never really made sense of any of it. He still couldn’t, but he didn’t want to take part in this madness. Shaking his head hopelessly, he turned to leave the office without another word, while his father already picked up his earlier conversation with himself. The usual latest talk of some manufactured nethicite during which he would be pouring over plans.  
  
__ That evening, with his armour left behind, Ffamran went to a tavern he favoured most. He ordered an ale and, not feeling very social, found himself a table in one corner. He was beginning to play more seriously with the thought of leaving. He’d been meaning to leave his home for a while already, find his own four walls to distance himself from his father. But now it seemed that wouldn’t be enough. He had morals, believed in the law and fair judgement, but how could he wield such judgement when the world around him turned out to be more corrupt than he could ever have imagined? And now he even found out he was basically a tool to his father’s craze, and even the emperor’s son was on the doctor’s side. What about the emperor himself? The Senate? Did his older brother know anything? Who else was behind this ‘project’ mentioned by his father?  
  
_ "You look like you could do with some company,” he heard a vaguely familiar voice that brought him back to the present, and he looked up just in time to see one of those people take a seat whom he really didn’t want to have to deal with right then. Also, one person whose presence usually meant nothing good. “What makes you think that  _ you __ would be the one and only I’d want with me right now, Jules?” he asked the man. They had met twice before - once when Jules had singled Ffamran out as the one he wanted to know something from, and once when Ffamran had had to rely on the other’s knowledge. Out of all the shady characters he knew (the list was constantly growing), Jules possibly took the crown. Shady, but useful, as he’d heard confirmed from others.  
  
__ “Instinct, Your Honour,” Jules replied, allowing himself just a little taunt. “Not that I could blame you, needing some company to take your mind off things. Not everyday one falsely slays a citizen, right?” he said casually, and motioned to a passing waitress for an ale of his own. “Surprised?” he asked then when he saw the look of shock and surprise on the other’s face, and smiled at him. “I have ears and little birds everywhere, you should know that by now. In my world, knowledge is everything.”  
  
__ 'Would one more dead man make a difference?’ Ffamran found himself thinking, but he quickly brushed off the thought. He waited until the waitress set down the drink and left. “What is it you want?” he finally asked, knowing that Jules wasn’t just here for a chat. This man saw and took opportunities. “Money, what else? What would my silence be worth, you think? This would be a pretty big deal, and a man has to survive out there,” Jules offered, not beating around the bush.  
  
__ The wheels in Ffamran’s head were spinning, and his thought of leaving this place was back. He saw no future for himself in this city of corruption, backstabbing and blackmail. He didn’t particularly like pulling the Judge card, but two could play Jules’ game, he just had to keep a cool head. “You do realise that you’re trying to blackmail a Judge? That’s a serious crime, I wouldn’t want to see you hung by the neck until you’re very sorry,” he said, shifting to lean forward and a little closer to the other man. “However, I might make an exception this one time. A deal of sorts, to make us even.” He liked to believe that he saw a fleeting worry in the other’s expression before he, too, controlled himself more. “Out of curiosity, what might this deal be?” Jules asked after a moment’s thought.  
  
_ Ffamran had to get away, far away, and the ideas he’s been toying with were maybe exactly the way to go. However, he would need help. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to turn to Jules, out of all the people - maybe madness ran in the family. “Do your little birds know of someone 'no longer needing' an airship? Something small and simple would do,” he asked, planning on doing some modifications over time, anyway. He watched the other man raise a curious brow. “Perhaps… But this information will come at a far higher price. An  _ airship __?” Jules replied, seeing no harm in trying to make this a sweeter deal for himself.  
  
__ "It’ll be worth it. I will send a better reward your way in due time. I don’t have much left to take care of before my leave,” Ffamran promised; now that he set his mind to leaving and pursuing a new occupation that gave him absolute freedom, he was willing to make it more interesting for Jules. One of his ideas had been to become a sky pirate, to take mainly from those who didn’t deserve what they had, from the corrupt. Now he couldn’t just let this opportunity go.  
  
__ If there was one thing Jules knew about Ffamran, it was that the young man was true to his word. He hadn’t had any trouble with him in the past, and knew from others that the young Judge probably was as trustworthy as an Archadian upper class man could be. And a promise of a ‘better reward’ was tempting indeed. “...Tomorrow night. Meet me outside Old Archades, and I'll give you instructions. Neither of us shall speak a word of any incidents yesterday or today, and I’ll be looking forward to what you'll be sending me,” he summarised their deal, to which Ffamran rose his drink, clinking it with Jules’. They were both just slightly nervous about this deal, but at the same time they both had a lot to gain. Should Jules not receive his payment in good time, the true incident the previous day would very quickly be remembered and known by many more.  
  
_A month later, a small parcel was delivered to Jules’ home that only had his name written on it. He was well known in these parts, and though not too many knew where he lived, things quickly found their way around until they reached their destination. Inside, he found an incredibly beautiful dagger, and it didn’t take a genius to see that this was of high value. He knew just the right people to judge how high exactly that value was, but from what he could tell after a first inspection, a debt had been paid well. And there was something else - a gorgeous necklace studded with valuable jewels, with a note in neat handwriting, saying ‘For the family’. He knew exactly what family was implied. Under any other circumstances he would have kept and sold the necklace, but this one time he decided to make an exception. He delivered the little gift in person, and recommended the widow a merchant who would give her a very good price for jewellery like this. It would help her and her children greatly._

__  
______  
  
  
Another silence followed as Basch let all he had just learnt sink in. Those gifts would have been from Balthier’s first ‘job’ in his new occupation, but everything considered, it had been put to good use. The widow would have made enough money to live a bit more comfortably with her children, and his promise to Jules had been a worthy price for freedom. Or as free as a sky pirate with an impressive bounty on his head could be. But what got to him the most was everything that had led up to that escape from the city. Being ordered at a young age to kill when there was no need, nor a word in the law that made it justifiable. And being only but a tool to get hold of the shards and crysts to gain power. He could only imagine how Balthier might have felt back then, to be let down by the one he’d wanted to make proud. Especially knowing that six years later, Balthier had realised that his father hadn’t been crazy after all. By then, however, it had been too late. “As much as I want you to stay, after hearing this, I could not fault you for leaving,” he said after a few moments, his arms loosening a little when he felt the younger move to turn in his arms. They tightened comfortably again the moment the younger stood still, and the other pair of arms looped around him.  
  
“I’m not certain yet. A little more time, and I’ll be able to make a choice. I can’t just settle like that, Fran and I have a date soon,” Balthier said lightly, the ‘date’ of course being the time they had set for them to pick up their pirating activities they had decided to take a break from. “But for now I have more important things on my mind. Such as catching up on some much needed time with this one man who'd so boldly stolen my, what I’d thought to be a well guarded, heart.”, he added with a smile, wanting to just think about what he had now in the present. And seeing that smile returned had his heart skip, just before he leant in to finally feel those soft lips against his.  
  
He’d greatly missed Basch over those long months in between their chances to see each other, let alone the long time it had taken him and Fran to fully recover. Not a day had gone by where he hadn’t thought of Basch. He felt torn about the original plan to leave in two weeks - he knew he could make Archades his home once more, if only for Basch, but then he would return to being a caged bird. For years he’d had the liberty of freedom, of flying wherever he wanted. Still, with Basch and freedom being the weights on a scale, the feeling was more on the older’s side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his ‘date’ with Fran nearing in a few days, Balthier still wasn’t certain whether or not his (near) future would be here in Archades, or back in the skies. Some days all he wanted to do was to settle here, make the most of his time with Basch, find a new occupation. Then there were those moments in which he was so tempted to just up and leave, feeling like the sky was calling out for him.

Despite his ‘date’ with Fran nearing in a few days, Balthier still wasn’t certain whether or not his (near) future would be here in Archades, or back in the skies. Some days all he wanted to do was to settle here, make the most of his time with Basch, find a new occupation. Then there were those moments in which he was so tempted to just up and leave, feeling like the sky was calling out for him. He’d mentioned this personal conflict to Basch once or twice, upon inquiry, but hadn’t kept the conversation up for long. Maybe he just needed a little more time to think, and spend that time thinking in his airship. In full flight. Or maybe discuss it with Fran, maybe she was feeling the same. They were a team, it would feel wrong to make such decisions without her.  
  
He was currently on his way to meet Larsa, to announce his departure in two days, knowing Basch would be there with the young emperor as well. He was fairly sure they would understand, and they knew of the dynamics he and Fran had as a team. On his way to the study, where he expected Larsa to be, one of the guards informed him that the emperor was in the audience room with an unannounced guest. Thanking the man, he turned to make his way to the room. He opened the side entry door only a fraction before he stopped in his tracks upon hearing a horribly familiar voice from the other side of the door.  
  
“--after him for  _ years _ , he has to take responsibility for all the thievin’. He’s a wanted criminal! Isn’t theft a serious crime in Archades, too?” the rough, gurgly voice of Ba'Gamnan filtered through the room, followed by the calm, smooth voice of Larsa.

“It is, but no crime has been committed upon Archadian ground. And wasn’t it that all charges up until the Bahamut incident had been dropped on the account of both him and his partner having saved Rabanastre and its citizens from being buried under the Bahamut?”

“They were considered dead for the longest time! A headhunter can’t hunt a dead man’s head, so how--” Ba'Gamnan tried to argue more urgently now, but was cut off.

“Be that as it may. But I will not hand out a valued imperial guest,” Larsa said with more certainty and finality in his voice, as even his patience had its limits.

“Your Majesty, think about it!” Ba'Gamnan urged again, and was about to continue his argumentation.  
  
As he listened, a sudden exhaustion hit Balthier, one that could be credited to the years of being on the run, and building the very impressive bounty his head currently carried - again. Even with his earlier charges having been dropped, he and Fran had been busy since their recovery. He may be safe here, as a guest, but the headhunters didn’t mess around. Running from home, from his past, and from those hunters, that was all he’d been doing for the past 8 years. He knew that by international law, pirating was met with consequences that had one’s head off one’s shoulder. He thought for a moment longer, while the argument inside the room went on. Making a final decision, he decided that this would be his punishment.  
  
He swung the door open, and walked in like he owned the place - an entry typical to him whenever he boasted a real or fake confidence. “I’m quite certain it’s ‘Your  _ Imperial _ Majesty’, is it not? Did you miss me, Ba'Gamnan, old friend?” he asked with his most charming smile, not missing the gnarl of distaste from the bangaa. Not that that stopped him, the show was just getting started. “What brings you here? I’d never taken you to be the big city type. More the desert type, I daresay,” he waved a hand dismissively, as the desert was far from being his own personal favourite.  
  
“ _ You _ !” Ba'Gamnan snarled, and took a ‘threatening’ step closer to Balthier. He had to leave his weapons with the guards outside, but even without a weapon, a bangaa could be dangerous. Before he could continue, however, Balthier spoke up like he didn’t care to hear the rest. “Too bad, old friend, I’m afraid you have the worst timing. I’m actually here to agree to His Imperial Majesty Larsa’s request for me to join the Imperial Army, and the ranks of the Judges. Fighting for my homeland, you might say.” Larsa made a surprised but joyous sound, though he could feel Basch’s observant eyes on him even from behind the heavy armour. In this case Larsa was easy to fool / convince, but not Basch. He mentally prepared for a talk later.  
  
“You what?! No! You blimmin’ coward!” Ba'Gamnan yelled and jumped for Balthier, who easily sidestepped the attempted attack. “That’s quite enough,” Larsa intervened as he stood from his chair, and, smiling, walked up to Balthier to rest his hands on the other’s upper arms. “I’m so happy you made this decision, thank you! I already have potential positions that would suit you perfectly. Let’s discuss this over dinner later. Judge Gabranth, I would highly value your input, too,” he added towards Basch, who remained next to the seat Larsa had just occupied. He nodded, assuring that he’d assist however he could. When Ba'Gamnan tried to get his own word in again, Larsa faced him. “I would ask you to leave now. Balthier’s head is no longer for you to hunt. I thank you for your visit, Ba'Gamnan, but the time is up.” The bangaa tried to argue again, but left in curses when Basch stepped forward, and two guards entered the room. They stayed by the open door in a position that said they would be quite happy to drag him out by force. Preferably into prison for a day or two, to teach him a lesson on how to behave on an - unannounced and unwelcome - imperial visit.  
  
Still oblivious yet happy, Larsa took his own leave to take care of one or two other matters, and to have the kitchen informed. Gabranth, he said, could fill Balthier in on the changes to the system of the Judges that were only internal knowledge.  
  
Shortly after, the two were in the study, Basch having discarded his helmet that now rested on a corner of the big desk. “Are you certain this is what you want? I would like to think I recognised that show for what it was,” he said, indicating with a hand in the general direction of the audience room. He’d witnessed Balthier’s flashy shows plenty of times in the past to tell the difference.  
  
Balthier gave him a soft smile, one that almost didn’t reach his eyes. “Observant as ever, I see. Larsa was right in keeping you close by his side,” he approved, for once with no sarcasm in his voice. He did indeed believe that the young emperor was safest with Basch around. “One might call it running from the hunters, but returning to the Judges might just be more of a punishment than it could be considered cowardice.” Again he made a dismissive hand gesture for Ba'Gamnan’s insult earlier. Words couldn’t hurt him.  
  
“You consider being a Judge a punishment?” Basch asked with a raised eyebrow. They had spoken about Larsa’s offer two or three times since Balthier’s arrival in the capital, but never once had there been a word of punishment. Was this how the younger  _ really _ felt about the matter? Would it really be that bad to be part of the new era of Judges?  
  
Balthier considered the question for a moment before he replied. “I was searching for you and Larsa to announce my departure in two days. It didn’t feel right to make any decisions without talking about matters with Fran. You know I don’t care much about the value certain people see in my head, popularity has never been an issue. But in part, I’m tired of running, and I like my head right where it is. Its current position just suits me best,” he said while he paced back and forth once, twice, before he moved to half sit, half lean against the edge of the desk, arms crossed. “The best thing for everybody is to lock Balthier away, and bring Ffamran back to his cage.” He unfolded his arms when Basch approached him, and reached out for the other pair of hands, not minding the armour encasing them. And as he looked up, a more genuine smile took the place of its predecessor. “At least this time it’ll feel more like home again,” he added; neither of them were the sappy type, so this was as far as he’d go in saying that home was where Basch was. He would still need to meet with Fran, inform her about the unexpected changes, but he hoped she wouldn’t be mad at him. Maybe there could also be a place for her in Archades, if she agreed.  
  
Wishing he could feel the other pair of hands on his skin, Basch leant in to press a kiss to his lover’s lips that was instantly returned. He still worried that Balthier would be unhappy with settling again in the city, or that returning to the Judges would somehow have a negative long term effect on him. It was all possible, but he would do what he could to support the younger.  
  
It was during dinner later that evening that Larsa revealed his new plan for Balthier’s new place in the system. He had indeed only considered the Judges, but upon second and third thought come to the conclusion that the best place for him would be in command of the air brigade as Judge Magister. He certainly had proven himself worthy of the title, and the last Magister had been pensioned just recently. This was even less what the (ex) sky pirate would have even dreamt would happen, but it was too late for him to back out now, no matter how much he  _ wanted _ to. The young emperor agreed to give him time to sort things out with Fran in two days, and would await him back within the three days following.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five days, that was the time limit Balthier was given before he was to take his new post as Judge Magister of the air units. Two days until his departure to meet Fran, and three days until his return. Technically, that was an order disguised as kind words by the young emperor - and Balthier didn’t respond well to orders.

Five days, that was the time limit Balthier was given before he was to take his new post as Judge Magister of the air units. Two days until his departure to meet Fran, and three days until his return. Technically, that was an order disguised as kind words by the young emperor - and Balthier didn’t respond well to orders.  
  
The meeting with Fran had gone different to his previous expectations. She had seemed a bit nervous at first, but later revealed that she, too, was considering to settle. The Wood wanted to welcome her back, and her people were slowly beginning to become more open minded to the outside world. Her sisters, too, both wanted her back. And though it seemed like their common path was now leading them along separate ways, he was happy for her. She deserved to be received with open arms by her family, and Eruyt Village was in fact one of the most beautiful places he had been to. Which, as a sky pirate, did say a lot.  
  
She also brought along a strong rumour of an ancient relic of her village that had recently re-appeared in hands not of her people. That alone was reason for them to track down its apparent whereabouts, and retrieve it - for the good of Eruyt Village, of course. It made their last job together one of their most meaningful jobs to date, and it only cost him an additional eight days. In his defence, he did personally escort her back to her sisters, and the village wasn’t exactly next door to his own new-old home.  
  
He didn’t expect his extended absence would go down well with his new employer, but he admittedly was taken by surprise when he saw Basch approaching the Aerodrome just moments after he left the building.  _ Had someone spot the Strahl on the radar, ay? _ he concluded, but he’d be damned if he let the other’s obvious anger get to him. The older wasn’t wearing his armour, but his pose made up for the threatening appearance it could have. “You don’t seem happy to see me, Gabranth,” he said lightly, almost charmingly once they were within hearing range of each other. Even after a year he still couldn’t get used to calling Basch anything but Basch or Captain, but out here, it was important that he played the role.  
  
“You and I need to talk,  _ Ffamran _ ,” Basch said a little more harshly than intended, pointing at the imperial estate, and it  _ almost _ made Balthier flinch. Almost. Not the prospect of this ‘talk’, but the use of his real name, his ‘new’ official name as it was spat out.  _ Better get used to hearing that name again. _ He wisely followed Basch in silence.  
  
______  
  
“You’re over  _ a week _ late, and you’ve been thieving again! What of your promise to Larsa?! Does it mean so little to you?!” Basch didn’t hesitate any longer once they were behind the closed door of a living area Balthier didn’t recognise. Going by the new, unfamiliar armour in Judge Magister style off to one side of the room, he concluded this was his new personal space.  
  
“Pirating,” he offhandedly corrected the false accusation of  _ thieving _ (surely Basch would know better), and continued his defence before the correction could settle. “We retrieved what belonged to her people, a relic of old. It was only right to return it to its rightful owners. I owe the viera a lot, so I escorted Fran to her village to which she was welcomed back. Besides, I promised Larsa to return, but haven’t taken my vows yet - technically I’m still a sky pirate. And returned I have,” he concluded his defence, spreading his arms as if to say ‘Well, here I am’. As expected, this didn’t do anything to quell the other’s displeasure.  
  
“Larsa may not have said it out loud, but he was disappointed when you failed to return. We both thought at one point or another that you wouldn’t,” Basch said, and he didn’t miss the sting in Balthier’s eyes. “You don’t owe the viera anyth--”  
  
“They took Fran and me in after the Bahamut’s fall, I owe them,” Balthier cut in; he would take anything Basch might throw at him, but not that the wood folk hadn’t done anything to deserve his gratitude. He had never told much of the time directly after the incident, so he knew he caught his lover off guard now. “I can’t recall how far away from the rubble we made it before two travelling viera found us - Fran unconscious again, and me on the verge. The next thing I remember, we were in their village, receiving medical treatment known only by the viera. A few days had passed since we were found, so they said. Even if Larsa himself owned an ancient viera relic important to them, I wouldn’t hesitate to return it to its rightful owners to whom I owe my life.” He paused for just a moment to let his words sink in. “You out of all people should know that I’m a man of my word, so if I promise a return, I’ll return - not to a time that was ordered. Now if you’ll excuse, this appears to be my new home. A bath, and some peace and quiet is due after a long flight,” he motioned with a hand for the door, politely kicking Basch out. He liked Larsa a lot, so he had to admit it hurt knowing that he’d disappointed the young emperor, but it hurt more to know that Basch had doubted his word. And for the umpteenth time he wondered if he’d really made the right choice by agreeing to rejoin the ranks of the military, just for the sake of being with Basch. He didn’t regret choosing his lover over the skies, but maybe he should have thought this through a little longer, and opted for a different occupation. He watched as the older reluctantly turned to leave.  
  
As he rested in the soothingly warm water a short while later, he just briefly considered reporting back to Larsa afterwards. It would be quite late by the time he finished here, though, he decided, and so the report would just have to wait until the next morning. The next thought was that maybe he could go into town and to a tavern later, but several things spoke against that, too; the warm water was making him more tired, he kind of preferred to have a quiet evening and night, and he most certainly didn’t want to chance running into Jules just yet.  
  
____  
  
That talk hadn’t gone quite the way Basch had expected, but then, it wasn’t often that he spoke in anger. Especially not with Balthier, but he had mainly just worried that the younger would change his mind and leave. At the same time he didn’t want to reduce Balthier to being the type who only ran from everything, as he knew that wasn’t the case. And above all, he had provoked a memory the other surely would have liked to not be reminded of.  
  
He was on his way to see Larsa, to let him know about Balthier’s return. He knew Balthier would report later or the next day, but he placed his bet on the next day, and thought that the young emperor should be informed sooner. He, too, had worried. He found Larsa in the study, and quietly closed the door behind him. This wasn’t an official visit, so he didn’t bother with his armour. “Balthier has returned, I escorted him to his new quarters. He sends his thanks, and will report tomorrow morning at the latest,” he said, adding a little lie of sorts. But he knew the younger would have sent his thanks, had they not both been on the angry side. Again he mentally kicked himself for starting the entire argument.  
  
“Really? I’m happy he’s back, thank you for informing me,” Larsa said with a happy smile, putting his pen down for the moment. “Did he say what held him?”  
  
Basch made sure to keep his expression neutral as he thought about how to explain Balthier’s delay. He had managed to keep the rumour from Larsa’s ears, as he hadn’t wished to upset him more. “He had an important matter to attend to for the viera. He and Fran had to retrieve something, what with them having an airship. I’m sure he will apologise for his delay tomorrow in person. Fran will now be settling with her people as well, so all in all it was a successful trip.” Larsa thanked him again for all the information, saying he was looking forward to seeing Balthier tomorrow. For now, though, Basch had the rest of the early evening to himself.  
  
Now that there bad been plenty of time to cool off, he thought it was time for  _ him _ to apologise to his lover first. Sure that Balthier hadn’t left his quarters since, he went to the kitchen to retrieve a sandwich, two glasses, and a bottle of wine they usually enjoyed together. He wasn’t sure if Balthier would already want to talk much, but it was worth a try.  
  
A short while later he stood in front of the other’s door and gave it a knock. He heard no response for a few moments, and rather than knocking again, he took his chance by trying to open the door. To his mild surprise it did open to a dark room. Stepping in, he used the light from the hallway to put the items in his hand down on the shelf next to the door, before he carefully closed it. “Balthier? Are you in?” he asked, and after a brief hesitation turned on the light at the same time as he heard a ‘Yes’ coming from the direction of the bedroom. Entering the other room, he left that light off as the glow from the living room was enough to see, and subsequently find his lover under the covers. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he asked quieter now, feeling a little bad when the other confirmed that he had been asleep. That was the curse of being a light sleeper.  
  
For a moment Basch considered to leave, especially when Balthier didn’t turn around, remaining with his back to the door, but he took it for a good sign that he wasn’t being thrown out again. Deciding that the sandwich and wine could wait a little longer, he switched off the light, and relied on his short-term memory to let him reach the bed. He undressed until he was left in a shirt and underwear, then took his chance to climb into the bed as well. Not hearing any complaints, he scooted closer, his front molding against his lover’s back, and an arm looped around the waist. A small smile tugged at his lips when he felt Balthier relax against him, and a hand lacing its fingers with his own. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I spoke out of line and in anger, it wasn’t right of me,” he apologised sincerely, and lifted his arm a bit as his lover moved to turn around until they faced each other in the semi dark. He felt a soft hand reach for his as they rested close, legs tangling.  
  
Again there was a moment of silence before Balthier replied. “It’s fine, I understand. We were both on edge. I should have sent word somehow that I would return later than planned,” he said, knowing that he, too, hadn’t acted the way he should, in his natural defiance against being given orders. He knew he had to work on that - eventually.  
  
“I informed Larsa of your arrival, he’s happy you’re back. As am I,” Basch said after another moment’s silence, and he pressed a kiss to the other pair of plush lips while his fingers played with the other pair. The kiss was returned without hesitation - he had missed this, the two of them just enjoying each other’s presence. “I told him you helped the viera to retrieve something, seeing as you have an airship,” he told of his brief talk with the young emperor. Balthier assured he would apologise to him tomorrow as well. He could tell that his lover was indeed very tired, as even Balthier couldn’t fake it this well. And really, he couldn’t blame him - the flight had been long, arguments took energy, and he had no way of knowing how much or little the other had slept the previous night. The fingers playing with his weren’t moving much anymore, and stopped all together just a few moments later. Basch closed his own eyes then, too, his hand letting go of the other for the arm to loop around Balthier, and eventually let the sound of steady breathing of his lover lulled him to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only took Balthier around a month in service to entirely turn the air force system upside down - and anger the one or the other higher up while earning respect from many Judges and soldiers alike, particularly those under his command. Three of those four weeks Emperor Larsa and Basch had spent on political visits to foreign states and kingdoms, while receiving occasional intel on how things were going back home.
> 
> Upon the day of their return, later in the afternoon Basch didn’t hesitate to pay Balthier a visit in his new office.

It only took Balthier around a month in service to entirely turn the air force system upside down - and anger the one or the other higher up while earning respect from many Judges and soldiers alike, particularly those under his command. Three of those four weeks Emperor Larsa and Basch had spent on political visits to foreign states and kingdoms, while receiving occasional intel on how things were going back home.  
  
Upon the day of their return, later in the afternoon Basch didn’t hesitate to pay Balthier a visit in his new office. He was granted entry, and found his lover by the desk, dressed in his armour and the winged helmet somewhere to the side, mulling over some paper he was writing on. “Quite a commotion that you’ve stirred in the ranks of the military lately,” he opened the conversation once he quietly closed the door behind him and took off his helmet, a letter in his own hand.  
  
“Welcome back, I’ve missed you, too,” Balthier said lightly as he looked up, his head tilted a tad. Straight to the point, that was Basch through and through. “But yes, I suppose a little… spring cleaning of sorts was long overdue in the air force. Our birds, too, are outdated,” he said as he put his pen down to regard the older with more attention. He was becoming more familiar with that serious expression by now.  
  
Basch looked down at the letter in his hand, a report delivered a few days ago. “A strange take on ‘spring cleaning’ you have. Word has it that you moved some soldiers to other units,” he began reading from the report, and Balthier wouldn’t be Balthier if he didn’t have a response ready.  
  
“They were either unmotivated or terrified of heights, they’re happier with the mastiffs and mages,” he simply waved off, before Basch continued.  
  
“You demoted a Judge, and moved him, too--”  
  
“He had no leader qualities.”  
  
“Three soldiers threw up during a new ‘special training’--”  
  
“Ugh, don’t remind me. They were moved to the gunners, they’re not made for the skies.”  
  
“A soldier was promoted to a Judge status without further training or proper recruitment--”  
  
“He has potential, the training will begin soon.”  
  
“A number of soldiers were pulled from other units to join the air force--”  
  
“Our numbers were dwindling.”  
  
“There’s a formal request for airships--”  
  
“Our birds are losing their feathers.”  
  
“And you verbally attacked and insulted Judge Magister Melda, claiming he messed up recruitments.”  
  
“Merely informed him of his incompetence in his position. You just read how many new recruits he misplaced.”  
  
Basch looked up from the report with a frown, finally showing he wasn’t the least bit happy with what had happened in the past few weeks during his absence. He took a step further into the room and towards the desk. “What are you playing at, Balthier? Reports say this new ‘special training’ involves dangerous flight maneuvers that risk the lives of their pilots.”  
  
“Did Judge Melda report this? Coincidentally  _ after _ complaining about my honesty regarding his intellect?” Balthier asked, and narrowed his eyes a bit at the older. “Tell me, in your days as a Captain, how much experience did you have with the air force?” When Basch reluctantly confirmed he hadn’t had any contact, Balthier continued. “And to this moment, how often have you flown an airship?” Again, Basch could only confess zero experience. “My predecessor was too slack on the fleet. A good pilot as and in itself, but ‘good pilot’ isn’t what our force needs. We need men and women who have a passion for flying, who don’t throw up on simple evading maneuvers. This ‘special training’ is what should be  _ standard _ training for the chance of pursuit of enemy fliers. Every pilot needs a good stomach, or their feet belong to the ground only, and every pilot is by default at danger once he sets foot into his aircraft. Imagine the Rozarrians had attacked a month ago, we’d have been crushed. Even now our numbers are too low for a good chance. Larsa may be on good terms with other leaders, but a military can  _ never _ rest at ease.”  
  
“Surely there are more conventional methods, though,” Basch held on to his opinion. “One in which you play by the rules for a change. You can’t pro- or demote Judges, and move around our soldiers however you see fit. Official matters need to go through official hands, you know this.”  
  
“Does Larsa disapprove of my methods?” Balthier asked, which Basch again confirmed that “His Excellency puts his full trust in the matter.  
  
“At least someone does, that’s good enough for me,” the younger stated, and picked up his pen to return his attention to the paper in front of him. This conversation was beginning to bore him. “Now please excuse me, Gabrath, I have work to do.”  
  
The sudden name change irked Basch, and his irritated frown turned to a more confused one. “Since when do you call me that name in private?” he asked, observing the younger who didn’t look up from his writing.  
  
“Since you’ve turned into your brother, rather than just impersonating him to the outside world,” Balthier stated easily without missing a beat. “Ever wagging his tail at any ‘conventional rules and regulations’ the Empire set. Never liked that about him. Keep it up, and you’re on your own - I’m in love with Basch, not Noah.”  
  
Basch hadn’t expected this reply, and for a moment it caught him off guard. He wasn’t sure at first what to say, and it didn’t help that Balthier was still casually writing … whatever he was writing. For the first time in a very long while, he was unable to read his partner, unable to identify if this was just another act, or if Balthier really was so unaffected by their conversation. He wasn’t given enough time to think, though, before Balthier continued.  
  
“The definition for ‘conventional’: ‘something based on or in accordance with what is generally done or believed’. Doing something the way it’s always been done based on conventionalism prevents improvement to a system. So long as there’s no absolute law that forbids me to undertake changes and stabilise the air force, as is my job and responsibility, I’ll continue with my ‘unconventional’ methods. In this case, Larsa’s the only one whose opinion matters.”  
  
This was the final verbal slap in the face for Basch, topped only by Balthier leaving the office without another word or glance, helmet in hand. He wanted to feel anger, or fear of losing his lover,  _ anything _ \- but right then he felt empty. Still standing in the middle of the open space in the office room, it took him a moment or two to move again. Was he really becoming so much like his late brother? Were his views on the system so wrong? He walked up to the desk, and took the papers Balthier had just been writing on. It seemed to be a weekly report, according to which the overall performance of the air force was improving at a satisfying pace. He knew Balthier wasn’t one to use such term easy, so this was indeed a compliment that would have been hard earned by the soldiers. Had he himself gone too far? Again? He wanted to go after Balthier to talk, but for now he was being kept busy with work.  
  
Once all duties for the day were done come evening, he decided to go visit Balthier’s quarters. Though upon arrival, he found the door locked, and heard no sound after he knocked on the door. It wasn’t Balthier’s style to flat out ignore him, so he believed the younger simply wasn’t in yet. Which wouldn’t be too strange, given the relatively early time in the evening - the tavern was a likely place for the younger to be, but not one Basch would go search now.  
  
______  
  
The next morning, too, Basch didn’t find Balthier where he expected him to be - in his office, nor the hangar. Lucky for him, though, the soldiers knew more. “Said something ‘bout popping into the lab, Your Honour,” one of them said, his armour removed like most of his comrades. When Basch asked about this, the man explained that they were learning more about the technical aspects of their ‘birds’, as they all seemed to call their airships and fliers. “We gotta be able to conduct quick ‘n’ easy emergency repairs, so we’re finally learnin’ some engineering. I know some of the lads have been requesting that for the last two years. Judge Bunansa knows what’s important, we’re happy he’s in charge of us now.”  
  
Basch didn’t believe a soldier was supposed to speak so freely, just a little out of line, but he decided to let it slip this time. He was far more interested to hear first hand what the air force thought of how things are currently being handled, so someone like this man would be a good choice to speak to. With that decided, he took off his helmet. “You’ve been serving the air force the last two years? How do you and your men cope with the most recent changes?” It was then that the soldier seemed to realise his error in speaking freely, and he shifted on the spot, clearly getting uncomfortable. “I’m not asking this on an official matter, call it personal curiosity, from one man to another,” Basch explained his sudden questions, wanting to relax the man.  
  
“Well, I’m in me third year on the team, but it feels like we’re really learning stuff about our job now. We’d have aircraft engineers on the ships before, but now all of us are learnin’ first aid kinda things for our birds, or maneuvers that’ll likely save us from crashin’. More effective ways to get rid of pursuit - y’know, chargin’ for the ground and knowing when to pull up on the last moment; either the enemy has pulled off before, or they’ll crash. ‘Course we recently lost some comrades to other divisions, but they’re feelin’ better there. One of them’s a good mate of mine, a few months ago he’d considered leaving the military, cause he didn’t settle well here. He’s training the mastiffs now, said he loves it. Judge Bunansa sat an’ talked with everyone who was moved to other divisions, to make better choices. Our new comrades are real motivated, said they’d hoped to join the air force when they’d first enlisted for the military. Overall the motivation’s noticeable, we’re feelin’ more confident the more we undergo more advanced training. An’ soldiers who deliver exceptional performances will be given more responsibility, that’s what Judge Bunansa said he wanted to try in the future, and see how it goes.”  
  
Basch listened with interest as the soldier opened up about how things were going in his division, and it did indeed sound positive. The thing about additional responsibility for soldiers was something that might need to be discussed, but he had to admit that Judge Melda’s report had sounded more negative than the reality seemed to be. He glanced around, and instead of seeing a bunch of soldiers taking advantage of being unsupervised by their commander, they seemed to be genuinely involved in their current tasks. He knew that in the past two years their air force had ‘lost’ many men due to slack leadership, which pushed an increasingly bad reputation, not long after the previous Judge had been put into command. If Balthier continued the way he did now, there was in fact a chance for the division to recover. If that was the case, more commanders would be necessary for multiple fleets once again, and there seemed to be promising recruits on the team at this very moment. “Thank you, your honesty is appreciated,” he thanked the soldier.  
  
“Uhm, Judge Bunansa ain’t in any trouble, right?” the man asked with uncertainty, knowing that Judge Gabranth was the emperor’s Sword and Shield. Basch offered a small smile, and shook his head. “Nay, he does a good job. The empire needs soldiers like you and your comrades, and a commander like him leading you.” The man seemed happy with the answer, before he was released to return to his duty. Feeling that he’d seen and heard enough, Basch turned to take his leave, the helmet back in place. The lab - there was only one place he could imagine Balthier to be right now.  
  
He hadn’t been to the Draclore Laboratories often since taking his late brother’s place, but he remembered the way to the late Doctor Cid’s old office well. It hadn’t been reused since the man’s death - there had been plans and attempts, but whoever had entered to renovate the room had always left within minutes, claiming to have suddenly felt sick. Eventually any plans to reuse the room had been dropped. As Basch now approached the automatic door, he wasn’t surprised to find it opening and revealing Balthier standing by a bookshelf as if this were his personal office. “You might be more like your father than you’d probably want to admit,” he said softly as he entered the room, as for a moment he could have sworn to see Cid standing in Balthier’s place, the same way he had seen the doctor for the first time in this very office two years ago.  
  
“The man was a genius. A little over the top, but a visionary, dedicated to his cause until the very end. I’ll take it as a compliment,” Balthier said lightly, and closed the book once he finished the paragraph. “What brings you here, Gabranth?” he asked, and though he could think of many more taunts he could have delivered, he believed the name to be enough. It struck a nerve, he could see, and that was good enough for him.  
  
Looking down at the book’s cover, Basch could make out that it was something about skystones, but that’s all he could tell. “Change of heart regarding Doctor Cid?” he asked in way of ignoring the badly hidden taunt, at the same time curious that Balthier would speak of his late father like this. It was a good thing, certainly, but given their history, maybe a little surprising.  
  
“I’ve had plenty of time to think. So, how can I help you? Or are you just here to point out more ways I’m wronging the glorious empire? If that’s the case, you’d best be off the way you came from,” Balthier said with a lazy wave towards the door. He wasn’t in the mood for more fighting. And he was even less in the mood to talk about his feelings regarding his father. He’d always respected the man, and despite the strained few years they’d had, he knew now how wrong he himself had been. Had he stayed and understood as a teen, he’d might have aided his father - and possibly have prevented his death, but he generally tried to avoid that trail of thought for good reason.  
  
“Basch. I am not my brother, nor will I become him,” the older said with resolve. “I… must apologise for yesterday. I went too far, believing the old way was the right way. I had known of the fleet’s reputation, but…” he trailed off and thought for a moment. “I had a word with one of your soldiers just now. And it became obvious to me that I hadn’t fully understood the indeed positive difference your ‘unconventional methods’ were making not only on the team, but for the future of the air force. I still don’t believe some of your ways are right, but as Larsa, I shall put more trust into your efforts,” he said, feeling genuinely sorry for his behaviour the previous day. He didn’t like fighting with Balthier.  
  
The younger listened carefully, and he heard the sincerity in Basch’ words. “So you’ll quit interrupting my work? And while we’re at it, it would also help if you don’t jump to conclusions whenever some incompetent, bitter old fool complains about my work,” he said, wanting some sense of closure as he crossed his arms in front of him, book still in hand.  
  
“I give you my word,” Basch promised with a slight nod. “However, you might want to discuss your idea of this new system you’re planning to enrol, in giving soldiers certain additional responsibilities,” he added, this being the one thing he wasn’t convinced of.  
  
Sighing, Balthier shook his head as he walked to the desk. “There’s little to be discussed. While the division is now a mere shadow of what it had once been, I can’t have an eye on everything on my own. I have Judges, but with the influx of new recruits I’m expecting, the few Judges on my team will also have their hands full. I promoted  _ one _ soldier to Judge status, and certainly didn’t plan on making it a habit without Larsa’s authorisation. So that leaves me with only few options. Soldiers that have been on the team for a certain time, and who have proven themselves, should be granted more responsibility. That, too, will increase their motivation and dedication to the military. The idea was to give them tasks such as supervising engineering lessons and advances, assist in flight training, and be the first contact person on sight for problems soldiers might be having, if no Judge is near. Their designated task would depend entirely on their individual strengths. They would cover anything up to assisting roles, no more than that. I will be bringing up the matter with Larsa very soon, also to discuss the extent of a pay rise for those positions. Nobody should take such added responsibility without a reward at the end of the month.”  
  
Basch listened to the plan Balthier had thought up, and the more he heard, the more it seemed valid to have helpers like that. Maybe he had underestimated the younger’s earnestness towards his new position a little. Before he could comment, Balthier continued. “I would also like to conduct an expedition of sorts, to find better skystones. Or at least to find a way to produce them. Our birds are in desperate need of some upgrades,” the younger said, waving the book for a moment to indicate where he got some ideas from. “After the annual Judges camp, of course. Wouldn’t want to miss this event for the world,” he added; every year brought a set date where soldiers from all divisions could apply for a promotion to become a Judge, and undergo tests administered by the Judge Magisters to see who had what it took. That was the formal way of promotion, one he himself had experienced a little differently in the past. His father had set the ball rolling, and he’d been put on a one-to-one trial for a month, at an age technically too young to be a Judge. Maybe this tendency to ‘unconventionalism’ just ran in his blood.  
  
For a moment Basch once again saw the strong similarity between Balthier and his father, and he had this fleeting thought that Cid would have been proud, had he been able to see and hear his son now. “You’d best talk to Larsa about this -  _ all _ of this. Though I trust you’ll be met by his encouragement - he always has put high trust in your abilities and judgement,” he said, and for a moment it occurred to him that Larsa probably had more trust in Balthier than he himself had shown in recent weeks. It stung a bit, and he regretted having to admit this to himself, considering how he should be more supportive and trusting to his boyfriend. They had travelled and fought alongside each other for quite a while in the past, and he knew of the younger’s abilities. He knew the way he treated Balthier lately wasn’t fair or reasonable, and it hit him that maybe, just maybe he had become even more like his brother than he had noticed until now. It was a change his boyfriend had pointed out very clearly, but only now did he himself begin to really see the full extent. It was admittedly a little disconcerting.  
  
“I will within the next few days, once I can present a more solid plan,” Balthier agreed, effectively pulling Basch out of his thoughts. “We will also need to prepare for that camp. This will be a new experience for me, in a way I’m actually looking forward to the event.”  
  
As he listened, Basch stepped further into the room and towards the younger, a soft smile pulling on the corners of his lips as he left his helmet on the desk. “Just try not to fry any of the candidates outside their armour,” he teased, remembering how Balthier had told of his own trial training. The other’s comment of “Spoilsport.” pulled a laugh from him, as his arms finally looped around the younger man to hold him close. It felt good to hold Balthier like this again, to have the other pair of arms around him in turn, though it would feel even better if he himself weren’t wearing his armour right then. Still, that didn’t dampen the feeling of having Balthier’s lips against his a moment later, and a hand cupping the back of his head affectionately, as if to prevent him from pulling back. “Let’s have dinner together later - without armour,” he mumbled against the other pair of lips in between kisses, a hum being an affirmative. They both still had work to do, after all, but now they had something to look forward to.  
  
They took their time, though, enjoying these kisses just a little longer before they managed to pull back. “Duty calls. Expect me in your quarters at 8,” Balthier said, then tapped a finger on the armour. “And I don’t want to see this on you.”  
  
Basch’ own smile turned more amused at that, and he promised to have it removed in time. They were both in need of warmth and closeness, not only after having been apart for the past three weeks, but also after another fight. They left the office and lab together, and reluctantly parted ways shortly after, each having to return to their given tasks.


End file.
